The tall, dark man reverently laid his left hand on the open Book,
raised his right arm, and slowly repeated the words of the oath:
"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of
President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability,
preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so
help me God!"
The words had scarcely died on his lips when the distant boom of cannon
proclaimed the new President. The crowd on the platform rose and stood
with uncovered heads, while the procession formed in the same order as
at its entrance and returned to the White House.
"What do you think of it?" Betty asked breathlessly, turning to Ned.
The firm young lips came together with sudden passion:
"The argument has ended. To your tents, O Israel! It means war----"
"Nonsense," John broke in impetuously. "It means anything or nothing.
It's hot and cold--a straddle, a contradiction----"
He paused and turned to Betty:
"What do you think?"
"Of the President?" she asked dreamily.
"Of his Inaugural," John corrected.
"I don't know whether it means peace or war, not being a statesman, but
of one thing I'm sure----"
She paused and Ned leaned close:
"Yes?"
"That a great man has appeared on the scene----"
Both men laughed and she went on with deep earnestness:
"I mean it--he's splendid--he's wonderful! He's a poet--a dreamer--and
so typically Southern, Mr.
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